Dynasty
by Brievel
Summary: In which Palpatine adopts Lil'Maul and Baby Ani a little early, discovers the secret to immortality early on, and ponders the Force-forsaken evil of grandkids and grandapprentices. Undiluted crack, featuring the Overwhelmed Ultimate Sith Lord. Chapters not in chronological order, but all are cohesive.
1. Early Investments

Senator Palpatine strode towards his lavish apartment, face tight with exhaustion. The bill had passed, but just barely, and it had taken not only his entire political expertise and many favors, but some amount of Force persuasion. For being such mindless creatures, he mused darkly, Senators could certainly prove themselves resilient to mental tampering. As he palmed his door open, he found himself looking forward to the hours of quiet darkness and a good cup of tea.

Instead, he was greeted with blazing lights, and the giggles of excited younglings. Face setting in a scowl, he marched down the hallway to the nursery, stopping in the doorway just in time to prevent a ball the former color of his hair from hitting him in the forehead, the orb hovering a scant few centimeters in front of his upraised right hand. The tiny Zabrak's gestures were clumsy, extravagant, and awkward, but he was least directing the balls with some purpose. The infant human's wild arm movements had an entire cosmos of haphazardly whirling balls pirouetting through the air.

The irritated Sith Lord had no trouble in overriding the younglings' powers, halting the progress of all the playthings. The movement of the Force caught his charges' attention, and he was promptly charged by the older of the two with a squeal of "Masser!" The Zabrak boy wrapped himself around Palpatine's legs as the human drooled a happy greeting. Palpatine tolerated the living bonds for a brief moment before peeling his young protégé off.

"Where is your nanny?" he demanded sternly.

Maul gave him a look of innocence that would've done the most corrupt politician in existence proud, and pointed to a corner. "She got hit by a ball, and bwoke," he replied artlessly, before sticking his hand in his mouth.

Palpatine absently pulled out it before striding over to the droid. "What have I told you about sucking your fingers, Maul?" Leaning over, he found the activation switch and flicked it on.

"-ster Maul, it is time for your bath and then you must go to bed – oh! Master Palpatine!" The droid's voice took on a surprised tone as her photoreceptors focused on him.

"Get them both cleaned up and in bed," he ordered, turning towards the door. "It is over an hour since they should've both been asleep. Use any and all means necessary."

"At once, Master Palpatine," the nanny droid answered obediently, bustling towards the Zabrak youngling, who dodged away. As the Senator exited the nursery, a faint twitch of the Force and a baby's giggle were his only warnings less than a second before a reddish ball collided with the back of his head. The door behind him closed with a fraction more force than strictly necessary.

He was on his second cup of tea, and just beginning to relax, when two large glowing amber orbs appeared in midair. "Master Palpatine?" the nurse droid spoke, unaware of the tension that suddenly reasserted itself in his shoulders.

"What is it?" he hissed, fingers twitching.

The droid remained appalling oblivious. "It is time for you to come tell Anakin and Maul a bedtime story," she replied far too brightly.

"...what?" Palpatine demanded, wondering if tiredness had messed with his hearing.

"You said to use all means possible to get them to bed," the nanny replied with innocent confusion. The Sith Lord restrained himself from annihilating the thing on the spot, reminding himself that buying one was risky enough – he couldn't afford it to be known he was purchasing nanny droids. And with that wretched blonde always snooping around, it was almost guaranteed such a deed would be discovered. Bodies? No problem to deal with. Babies? A little more difficult.

Pulling himself to his tired feet, he greedily sucked up the pain, using it to fuel the Dark which, in turn, he called upon to sustain him as he strolled down the hall to the nursery. Palming open the door, he took in the lowered illumination of the glowpanels, the squirming baby in his crib, and little Maul sitting up, his knees making a tent beneath the sheets. "One story," Palpatine said with a sigh, calling over a holobook with a wave of his hand as he sat in the chair beside Maul's bed.

"Okay," the Zabrak agreed cheerfully, and scooted close to the edge of the bed so he could see the illustrations.

Palpatine got two pages into the holobook before deactivating it in disgust. "Is this what your nanny reads you? Your minds will turn to mush." Getting up, he left the room momentarily, going to his study and lifting one of the ancient, hard-copy volumes from the shelf. Cradling the leather-and-flimsi treasure a moment, he returned to the nursery and resumed his seat, opening the book to near the middle. "It is high time your education in the history of the Sith began," he informed the young Zabrak, paging casually through to find the nearest start of a chapter.

Some three hours later, voice a little hoarse from a long day of debate and then hours of reading aloud, Palpatine closed the book, looking down at his lap. Maul half-sat, half-lay, curled up on his master with a thin line of drool tracing down the fine robes. The baby, in his crib, snored softly, and Maul shifted the tiniest bit but didn't awaken. Sighing softly, Palpatine scooped the young Zabrak up with as little effort as lifting a peko-peko feather, laying him on the bed and tucking the thin legs under the sheet, smoothing it up over the white pajama shirt. "Sleep now, my apprentice," he whispered, tugging a wrinkle out of the pillowcase before dimming the glowlamps almost to complete darkness. "Soon, you too will learn to use the power of the Dark Side to sustain yourself." Glancing over at Anakin, he assured himself the baby was soundly asleep, before exiting the room and gesturing the nurse droid back in with a negligent wave. He had tea to finish.

* * *

 **This was in response to a challenge Ru - that is, DarthRuinous - and I have been bouncing off of each other, namely, "is it possible to write a Palpatine fluff fic?" Requirements: Palpatine adopts little!Maul and baby!Ani. This is also a contest, so please go read and review her take, and let us know who you think has a better one!**


	2. Investment Payoff

Palpatine watched impassively as his two newest grandchildren tore around his office, putting their sticky little fingers on everything. Anakin and Padmé, and Maul and Eirtaé – how had the blockade of Naboo gone so dreadfully wrong? His foresight had completely failed him in that instance – assuming that because he was the Sith Lords' father, he would be happy to babysit for them, had dumped their reprehensible offspring on him and gone off on some frivolous date night. The Chancellor now watched the tiny terrors as they thoroughly explored his sanctum, weighing the profits of annihilating the little monsters and driving his apprentices further into the Dark Side against the risks that such an action would turn them both against him at once – a situation he'd prefer to avoid until he attained immortality. That the two upstarts would be punished for this presumptuousness was beyond a shadow of a doubt.

"Take care of your cousins," he said forbiddingly to the older pair. Kyziné, older than her brother by a year, and less than a year younger than the Blockade of Naboo, moved forward to intercept Leia as the toddler made yet another circuit of the office. Bestiel planted himself in front of Luke, capturing the small boy and swooping him up. The half-Zabrak siblings, each with an armful of squirming toddler, turned to face the irritable Sith Lord still seated at his desk. Kyziné, both as the eldest of the group and in honor of the maternal tendencies she'd inherited from her mother, took the lead role.

"It's dinner time soon, they'll get hungry," she stated matter-of-factly, reaching up to bat Leia's curious hands away from the fledgling horns just sprouting on her crown.

"You are capable of finding them something to eat, you know where the kitchen is," he replied dismissively, reaching out to pick up a datapad.

Kyziné waited a beat before replying pointedly, "The droids won't cook for us."

"So cook it yourself." He looked up long enough to give her a condescending glance.

She scowled back, unafraid. He would have to work on that. "We can't. The equipment is designed for droids."

Palpatine reached up, rubbing away a headache that wanted to invade. "Why didn't your parents leave you food when they dropped you off?"

Kyziné cocked the hip on which Leia was perched, pushing tiny hands away from her head again. "Because they thought you were babysitting us," she said with slow deliberation. "Which normally involves taking care of one's wards."

"I had more than enough of that with your fathers," Palpatine noted darkly. "What next, you'll be wanting a bedtime story?"

"Thtowy!" squealed Leia, sliding down the half-Zabrak girl as though she were a greased pole and racing over to Palpatine. The Sith Lord had only time to rear back, eyes widening, before he had a lapful of bouncing, squirming toddler. "Tell uth a thtowy!"

"No." He lifted her up, depositing her unceremoniously on the floor. Kyziné rushed over, scowling again, and picked the little girl back up.

"I'm hungry," Luke announced, squirming to get down. Bestiel tightened his hold on the youngling, looking at Palpatine.

"Please, Grandfather," he asked politely.

"They'll get cranky if they're hungry," Kyziné added, completely negating any good impression her more proper younger brother may have made.

Palpatine pinned her with an unamused look. "I do not appreciate being manipulated, young one. I suggest you remember that."

She shrugged, apparently unconcerned. He fumed silently. "Just giving you fair warning."

He rose to his full height – which unfortunately, was not much above her. By Korriban, when had the girl grown? Ignoring the less-than-desired height difference, he glared down at her, allowing a little yellow to bleed into his eyes. "Once you have all been fed, you will retire to your rooms and stay there," he ordered.

She returned his utterly unimpressed look of earlier and he found himself wondering, nonplussed, what tactics Maul had to take to keep her in line. "Sure, whatever," she agreed, turning towards the door. "As long as we get them fed."

Leia beamed at him over the older girl's shoulder. "Thtowy, Gandpa?" she asked expectantly.

He scowled at her. "For all you are a brat, youngling, you are still an improvement on your cousin."

Kyziné sashayed out into the hall, her voice drifting back to him. "Love you too, Grandad."

Palpatine sighed.

* * *

 **By the way, this is totally becoming its own AU spin-off in a separate story. I'm dead when he finds out, but in the meantime, I'm gonna have myself a ball with this cast of characters.**


	3. Training Time

Emperor Palpatine folded his arms, watching the siblings decimating the hapless Jedi before them. Arms, legs, heads, and other bits went flying, sped on their way by whirling red sabers. Red, he mused, being a rather broad term. Kyziné's saber was of an unfortunately pink tint, while Bestiel's was a rather lackadaisical orange-red. Too Light-drawn, the both of them, and their cousins hopelessly so. It must have been Amidala's influence, Palpatine supposed, and her oh-so-loyal handmaiden's. How his two promising Sith Lords had managed to go and get themselves enmeshed in the coils of women's wiles mystified the Master, but during the blockade, that is precisely what the two blockheads had done. The two youngsters he now watched were but half of the visible consequence of the foolhardy unions.

It still shocked him, at times, that Maul had been so rash as to elope in the middle of a mission – with a captive, no less. Anakin's recklessness appeared to be contagious. The deplorable females showed no more sense than the young men had.

Finally, the two red(ish) sabers below ceased their manic dance, bits of Jedi scattered about the panting duo. Kyziné raised her free hand for a high-five, which her grinning brother enthusiastically dispensed. "Rocked 'em," the girl said gleefully as the holograms faded. Unfortunately, there were no true Jedi left on which the adolescents could practice. Palpatine was still debating allowing the Light Order to rejuvenate so that his grandyounglings could learn properly.

"Barely adequate," he said bitingly from his position on the balcony above.

The teen girl smirked at her brother. "Granddad's in denial."


	4. Drawbacks

The great and glorious Emperor Palpatine (may he live forever,) though he would never admit such sacrilege aloud, was beginning to wonder if immortality was such a good idea after all. Playing eternal host to his brats' horde of offspring – both biological and apprenticed – was not an appealing prospect. A Twi'lek and a Togruta were currently clambering about on his throne, never mind that he was on it, while in the corner, a human and a Zabrak who (he hoped) were not blood relations were flirting brazenly. A small Nautolan girl was sitting on her tush in the middle of the room, screaming her little head off. The amalgamated critters that were Bestiel's and his Echani wife's triplets hovered around her – whether to try and soothe her, or upset her further, the Emperor wasn't sure.

Why his oldest grandson had waited so long to take a wife and start reproducing, Palpatine didn't know – the rest of the family had certainly followed the parental precedent in making off with a spouse early and getting busy. Kyziné had abandoned her duties as a Sith entirely to devote herself to motherhood, while nobody – including Leia herself – knew what the Skywalker girl was going to do now that she and that scruffy smuggler were expecting their first. Luke, avowed Light Sider the poor misguided boy was, had seduced away one of the Emperor's most promising hands, opening her to weak emotions such as "love" and "affection" and "gentleness."

Palpatine hoped they had a swarm of redheaded brats with tempers to match.

The Twi'lek fell heavily from the upper part of the back of the throne into the Emperor's lap. Palpatine picked her up by the scruff of the neck, holding her out and examining her closely, trying to remember how she was connected to him. One of Padmé's charity cases, possibly. That woman had the most deplorably compassionate heart, always championing some sob story or other. She would have been less of a burden had she not always put her money where her mouth was.

The Twi'lek toddler beamed at him. "Gwanddaddy!" she squealed, holding her arms out.

Ah. Not Padmé, then. Kyziné.

"Stay off my throne," he ordered, depositing her on the floor and sweeping the Togruta off onto the floor to join her. Looking around, he saw the triplets had finally succeeded in calming the Nautolan, who was now contentedly chewing on a lightsaber – Kit Fisto's, if memory served him correctly. Where she had gotten it, he didn't know, and didn't want to – Luke, on one of his endless trips to the decimated Jedi Temple, had probably pilfered it. How it had ended up in the webbed hands of a very small youngling, the Sith Lord neither knew nor cared. She was quiet, and that was what mattered.

Palpatine sat back, contemplating his extensive family and pondering whether or not to give the secret to immortality to their parents. On the one hand, it would be convenient to not keep having to train new apprentices for all eternity, instead simply continuing to build on what his students already knew. On the other hand, his younglings – though that was hardly the right term anymore – seemed determined to people the galaxy entirely on their own.

The man once known as Sheev Palpatine had never understood the desire for a family, but now as he looked down at a sleepy little interloper that had taken up residence on his lap, he found himself grudgingly admitting that they could have their uses.


	5. Too Old for This

When he'd finally achieved immortality, it had never crossed the mind of Emperor Palpatine that he'd ever feel old, but holding his first great-grandyoungling for the first time, he began to feel his age. The near-Zabrak baby gazed up at him, gurgling softly in contentment, the proud great-uncles hovering around. The Sith Master looked up at the beaming mother. "Before you even think about asking, no, I will not babysit," he warned.

Kyziné grinned. "Hadn't occurred to me, Granddad," she replied, and leaned over to kiss his cheek affectionately. One day, he would purge such Light tendencies from her. One day.


	6. Haunted

**Having finally read Darth Plagueis, (and having young Palpatine be my favorite character – erp!), I have been duly ignoring and trying to forget it. One scene stuck with me, though – or rather, one part of one scene. When Lord Sidious murders his Teacher, he accuses him (Plagueis) of tricking him (Palpatine) into committing fratricide, matricide, and patricide. _Tricking._ Like there might be the faintest shade of regret there…**

* * *

Not for the first time, indubitably not for the last, Senator Palpatine woke in a cold sweat, throat sore from his muffled screams. The soundproof Force shields he constructed each night ensured that no concerned guards would come invading his privacy. Turning onto his side on a clean patch of the shimmersilk sheets, Palpatine attempted to put the nightmare from his mind. It was always the same, always the same scene, only the viewpoint changed. Sometimes it was his mother's eyes through which he watched in horror as a deranged demon slaughtered his siblings, sometimes it was as his brothers or his sisters. Very rarely, it was as Cosinga he died, choking and spluttering for air, horrified by the certain knowledge the rest of the family was soon to follow.

A soft click from behind him brought rushing back all the tension he'd managed to dissipate. Soft padding feet informed him it was one of Maul's brats, staying with their father for a few days. His apprentice knew better than to disturb him after the surges in the Dark Side that were his nightmares, but the obstreperous younglings had yet to learn that lesson. Of course, he was surprised that either small youngling – barely more than toddlers – had the courage to invade his innermost sanctum…

A tiny pink form hoisted itself into sight, dragging a stuffed Twi'lek by one lekku, and inserted her small pajama-clad self under his bedclothes, curling up against his stomach before looking up at him. "It's okay, Granddaddy," Kyziné whispered, putting the doll in between them. "Coni will chase off your bad dreams, he chases mine off."

Palpatine gazed down at her, voice coldly forbidding. "I don't need any plaything to 'chase off' my nightmares. I am more than capable of doing so myself."

Kyziné shrugged and – impossibly – snuggled closer yet. "Okay," she agreed. "But-" she paused to yawn, and Palpatine sighed, "-he's gotta stay, because I'm staying, and he can chase off my… bad… dreamzz..."

The Senator stared down at the snoozing youngling, before huffing softly and turning onto his other side. Something small and warm pressed to his back as soon as he settled down, and he sighed again, resigning himself to a long night. Oh, how he anticipated the day when sleep would no longer be necessary, when he would be sustained entirely by the Dark! He had barely finished the thought before sinking into a welcoming oblivion.

Waking in the morning, entirely refreshed, Palpatine would've thought the whole episode merely a twisted figment of his night's imaginings, had a yellow string and bits of fluff exactly matching the color of a Twi'lek toy not remained in his sheets, shrouded by a faint scent of artificial berry bubble bath.


	7. Father

There were some days Palpatine just wanted to slaughter both younglings and leave the tiny bodies to bleed out on the floor. Then there were others that, though he would not have admitted it for the galaxy, the two little ones weren't half-bad. Like today.

Maul had started this one, for a change, usually it was Anakin, young as he was, leading his older brother into trouble. (Palpatine didn't know if it was because he was Force-sensitive, or if all toddlers were this much trouble, but he found his respect for parents growing.) He himself had had no idea that today was unlike any other, as he prepared himself for a Senate session. His door had cracked open, two little heads peering cautiously around it – one above the other – as the younglings gauged his activities and mood before tentatively entering. Palpatine turned to scowl at them. "What are you doing in here?"

Maul carefully held out a teacup, full to the brim, the Force ensuring there were no splash-overs. "For you," he explained unnecessarily.

Little Anakin, careless as always, revealed the reason for this unusual behavior. "Happy Fathew'th Day!"

Palpatine huffed, turning away again. "What ridiculousness, I'm ashamed of you both for indulging in it." Behind him, the Force went flat with disappointment, sadness, and a trace of fear. The soft padding of feet proclaimed their exit – but when he looked down at his dresser, he saw with surprise that somehow Maul had managed to slip the cup beside his elbow. Hesitating a moment, he reached out and picked it up, taking a sip. Glancing down, he noted with surprise that the boys had, apparently, been closely observing whenever he made tea for himself – the cup was perfect. Feeling himself soften, just the slightest bit, he finished the tea as he finished his toilette, handing the cup off to a servant droid as he exited his room.

"Maul, take Anakin out hunting today," he ordered as he made his way to the door. "And both of you be back in time for dinner."

"Yes, Father," the two chorused, with more or less of a lisp.

Palpatine paused as he palmed open the door, glancing over his shoulder. "Anakin, take your fingers out of your mouth, you know better than that." The last he saw of them as he exited was Maul leaning over and tugging his brother's hand down away from his face.


	8. Lessons at Breakfast

"Gather the Dark Side," Palpatine instructed, examining his young students. "Use your hate, your anger."

"But Father..." Anakin looked up at him questioningly. "It's just an egg. I don't hate it."

Palpatine reached over, slapping Maul's hand away from one of the raw eggs, ignoring the hungry gleam in the Zabrak's eye. "Then use your hatred of me," he ordered in exasperation.

Anakin's small face crumpled in confusion. "But I don't hate you."

Palpatine counted backwards from ten. "Then use your general hatred and anger!"

"I'll try," Anakin returned doubtfully, turning back towards his target.

"There is no try, there is only success or failure," Palpatine said sternly, and slapped the black-and-red hand again. "Maul! You may not eat the raw eggs!" He took a deep breath, turning his annoyance into cold anger and regaining his self-possession. "Now. Draw on your anger, your hatred. Focus it. Use it."

Three streaks of twisting, writhing lightning streamed out, grounding themselves in the cracked eggs in the pans sitting on the cold, dark stove. After a few minutes of the sustained attack, the eggs had congealed and turned a nice crispy white, yellow, and brown. The lightning ceased, dissipating into the static-charged air. Palpatine gestured to the pans, eyes still yellow-tinted. "There. Breakfast."

* * *

 **This came from a conversation from awhile back between Ru and I, about how we like our eggs prepared (and how a Sith cooks theirs.) I remembered it this morning while getting breakfast and couldn't resist. The line about there being no try, only success or failure, belongs to her.**


	9. Driven Mad

It was not often that Palpatine had to take the two younglings somewhere, but he always dreaded when he did. Though he cared nothing for the safety laws – no one was going to be seeing them – he nonetheless agreed that it was best if Anakin, at least, were restrained in a booster seat. Maul could be trusted not to interfere in the piloting of the vehicle, but Anakin could not.

The problem was, Anakin rarely wanted to be buckled in. Palpatine was done underestimating toddlers – not that Anakin screamed or cried, he had been trained out of that – but he was slipperier, when he wanted to be, than Sate Pestage at his slimiest. Squirming and twisting, the little boy made his escape once again, and Palpatine used language unfit for small ears as he dragged the toddler back to him with the Force. Maul, sitting in the front seat, had twisted around to watch with wide eyes, wisely keeping his laughter hidden. Palpatine refused to sink so low as to ask the other boy for help, but continuing to allow a _toddler_ to get the best of him wasn't helping his image any either.

"That is enough," he ground out, stuffing Anakin back into the booster seat. The youngling giggled, looking up at the irate Sith Lord with bright eyes as he shoved almost his entire hand in his mouth. Holding him in place with one hand, Palpatine reached for one of the straps – only to have Anakin pop out of the side of the seat and onto his lap, leaving little dirty footprints all over the dark material of his athletic pants.

Maul cautiously volunteered a bit of advice. "He responds better to coaxing than commands," he said in a small voice.

"I am Sith," Palpatine snarled. "I command, I don't coax."

Maul subsided for a moment, watching the ongoing struggle before asking in an even smaller voice, "Does he know that?"

Palpatine paused, swallowed his pride, and forced out from between gritted teeth, "Anakin, please sit in your booster seat and stay there."

The brat promptly hopped in, remaining still as with lightning speed, the Sith-cum-Senator secured the straps. As Palpatine moved up to the front seat, he gave Maul a glance from the corner of one eye. "None of this ever happened," he muttered threateningly.

Maul continued to face front. "No, Master," he agreed meekly.


	10. Winning Wounded

Palpatine examined his boys critically. Anakin's nose was in danger of healing crooked, Maul favoring his right arm, a pale jut jarring against the black and red. The two were leaning heavily on each other, Anakin wincing with each breath, and not entirely because of his broken nose. Already, the medroid was moving forward to put the two of them back together. As usual, they were both grinning, exhilarated by the fight.

"Pathetic," Palpatine spoke finally, his harsh disapproval silencing all other sounds in the room. "I'm disappointed in both of you." The two shared a self-recriminating look before looking down. "I trust you will do better next time," he added coldly.

"Yes, Master," they chorused together. He turned away, ostensibly to exit, but really to hide his proud smile. His boys were doing well.


	11. Feminine Wiles

A Force-push of pure fury had sent the stubbornly attentive Sate Pestage stumbling from the room. The comm set sat twisted and leaking faint smoke, weakly spitting sparks every so often. It had been a long time since Senator Palpatine had lost his temper so, but his boys' first blatant act of defiance had provoked a lash-out. With the first wave of fury passing, betrayal trickled in to take its place.

Palpatine sat in the deep dimness of his office, the curtains tightly drawn closed, the overhead glowpanels almost entirely extinguished. The most notable light source in the room was the faint glow of his golden eyes as he stared into nothingness, pondering his failure.

He had not foreseen his boys being seduced by wily females, for he himself had never felt called by such. Of course he had _seen_ such futures, but finding them unlikely, had dismissed them as negligible threat. It only went to show, he mused darkly, how very little could be taken for granted. It had never occurred to him to immunize his apprentices against conniving females – he had trained them to always, _always_ focus on the mission.

So how had this happened? And how, by Korriban, had little Padmé Naberrie managed such a sly scheme? And who was this Eirtaé character? Palpatine scowled, calling to mind his memory of the handmaidens as they stood behind his puppet Queen, trying to recall which was which. He had noticed them, of course – as possible hindrances to his plans, it behooved him to take note of them – but could not recall ever seeing their hair or much of their faces, the heavy hoods doing their job all too well. But he vaguely recalled a flash of blonde hair at some official function…

Well, well. Who would've thought, some pretty little blonde turning steady Maul's head. Sidious' eyes glowed brighter as a dozen lovely ways to eliminate the pest occurred to him. With a regretful sigh, he dismissed them all. It was more than the boys deserved, perhaps, but he would allow them a chance to explain themselves before he destroyed their mistresses.

The door opened and Sate Pestage crept in, almost green. "My – my lord, we… have received a… further communication," he almost whimpered.

Palpatine scowled and waved for him to continue – as displeasing as the message was likely to be, this was one messenger he would not shoot; Pestage had proven himself loyal, resourceful, and capable. "Spit it out," he ordered sharply, annoyed, and with a growing leaden weight in his stomach.

Pestage swallowed twice before he could get the words out. "It – it would seem Lord Maul is… married."

Palpatine stared expressionlessly at his aide, eyes smoldering, as Pestage squirmed. "I see," he spoke finally, dropping his words slowly, a malignant intent barely perceptibly beneath the deadly calm. "Dismissed." It was a testament to how displeased he was that Pestage's relief almost smothered the room as he fled, leaving the Sith Lord alone to contemplate his failure.

How could his boys have done this? He thought he had trained them so well… for twenty years, _over_ twenty years, they had lived in perfect obedience. And now… this. It felt as though they had both drop-kicked him in the gut, with this willful defiance. He bared his teeth in the privacy of his office. _Treachery._ He had allowed himself to trust them, and they had betrayed him.

He reached into the Force, into himself. The hot anger, the knifing betrayal, congealed, going cold and hard – purpose, determination, icy anger, the mainstays of his power as a Sith. If the headstrong boys wished to turn against their Master, let them – they would see how little they knew. He would defeat them, capture them, and then he would eviscerate those worthless women before their very eyes as they watched, helpless to stop him.

His eyes glowed gold in the darkness of his office.


	12. Return

The dark shadow stood amidst the other shadows, only distinguishable by the twin points of glowing amber deep inside the hood. They were fixed on the two young men striding down the landing ramp, two other, more muted, presences remaining inside the ship. The Shadow folded its arms, waiting, one hand surreptitiously slipping into the other arm's sleeve, one pale hand tightening on a slim metal cylinder.

To the Shadow's cold surprise, the two boys slowed as they neared and bowed. Amber eyes examined them closely – both were suppressing grins, almost glowing, clearly exhilarated. Yet despite their obvious pleasure, he could detect no disloyalty in them – the closest he could feel was a vague apprehension of his displeasure. Well, they certainly had ample cause to fear that, he mused darkly.

A single word lashed out like a lightwhip. "Well?"

Both of them flinched. Maul spoke first, offering hopefully, "She signed the treaty."

Palpatine paused. He had assumed, upon hearing of his apprentices' ill-advised romances, that defection was a part of the deal. Another stark lesson to assume nothing, he mused blackly. Maul, unaware of his Master's inner thoughts, continued. "Naboo will serve the Trade Federation."

"I see," Palpatine said slowly. "And what of these…" a sneer curled his lip, " _females_ you have brought back with you?"

They both froze, the sheepish apprehension heightening. Anakin finally offered weakly, "They won't distract us from our training or missions, Father. And you never said we couldn't take prisoners..."

The Sith Lord stared, baffled. His younger son spoke the truth – he _hadn't_ forbidden them from taking captives or spoils. "A grave oversight on my part," he dredged out, observing as their anxiety sharpened and they glanced worriedly at each other.

He let them both squirm in fear for their new pets for a long moment before turning. "See to it that they do not prove distracting," he ordered coldly, and swept away. The palpable relief behind him caused his teeth to grit – he did not need the Dark Side to foresee that these little love-affairs were going to prove problematic.


	13. Walking in Circles

He had taken all he could of the crying. He had stalked into the room, intending to teach a lesson not soon to be forgotten, had snatched the screaming infant out of the crib – and had been greeted with silence. Silence, so abrupt and complete the contrast made his ears ring. The baby hiccuped once, regarding him with tear-filled blue eyes, and whimpered softly. Despite himself, he found himself weakening, holding the baby up between both hands at arms'-length – even so, the little brat had stopped crying. He was not fooled to think the baby recognized and feared his power, on the contrary, it had been crying for _him_. It was an odd, if not entirely unpleasant, sensation, being needed – even if the needy one was an inane infant not yet half a Standard year old.

It was even odder, after he checked the clean diaper and failed to get the baby to take the bottle, to think that perhaps he wasn't even _needed_ after all. Perhaps the wretched creature had been squalling its little lungs out because it _wanted_ him. Which would never do at all, of course, such attachments were thoroughly unbecoming of a Sith – as was playing nursemaid. He could only hope the nursery droid would arrive soon.

In the meantime, he would have to suffice to meet the creature's needs. As it repeatedly refused to go to sleep, starting to whimper when he set it in the crib, starting to cry as he left the room, he finally gave in. Picking up the small bundle of nuisance, he walked the perimeter of the room repeatedly, the infant resting against his left shoulder as his right hand lightly, rhythmically patted the little back. A tiny hand formed a tiny fist around a hank of his hair, and he sighed, feeling a long wash of drool sliding down his back.

And then a concentrated weight landed on his shoulder, soft breathing tickling his ear, the grip on his shirt – if not his hair – relaxing, and he knew the pest had gone to sleep finally. But he did not stop walking immediately, continuing his mindless circuit, his absent rubbing of the back of his burden. It would not do to cease too quickly, to wake the creature before it had fallen fully asleep.

His own weariness finally dragged him to a chair, still holding the baby. Just a few minutes, he promised himself. Then he'd deposit the creature in the crib where it belonged, and leave it alone as he should. Just a couple of minutes' rest… the other one had never been this much trouble…...


	14. Not in the Job Description

When his comm chimed, he answered automatically. "Sate Pestage." A blue, distracted hologram of his employer popped up.

"Sate," the young Naboo Senator said, looking off to his right as he spoke. "Come to my apartment, I need you to do something for me."

"At once, Palpatine," the aide said, immediately standing and striding for his speeder.

When he arrived at the suite at 500 Republica and was admitted entrance, he was shocked to be greeted by the sound of a youngling's petulant wail and a datapad almost hitting his nose as it flew to land on top of the duffel reposing morosely by the door. Palpatine flitted into the room, carrying another datapad, narrow face pinched in an expression of determined distraction. "Sate," he greeted. "Darth Plagueis has assigned me a task that will take me offworld, but I should not be gone above two days. I need you to babysit for me."

Pestage choked in shocked and disbelief, as Palpatine turned towards the two younglings standing in front of one of the couches. Pestage choked again as he noticed them, floored, listening in disbelief to Palpatine's stern instructions to the pair. "Maul, mind Adviser Pestage while I'm gone." The very small Zabrak nodded soberly, and his – master? father? – continued. "And see to it that Anakin does as well."

The red-and-black face went an unhealthy shade of pink-and-grey, but the boy nodded again. "Yes, Master," he lisped obediently.

"Father," the human toddler whimpered, taking a stumbling step forward to attach himself to Palpatine's shaak-leather boots.

The Senator detached the youngling with a sigh. "Be good, Anakin. Do as Sate tells you." Picking up his duffel, he exited, leaving the three staring at each other.

Anakin stuck his fingers in his mouth, studying the political adviser critically, before announcing, "You're ugly."

Pestage blinked.


	15. Joys of Babysitting

"Where is your brother?" Pestage glared at the small Zabrak, who sat unconcernedly perusing a datapad. The insolent whelp shrugged.

"Dunno," he replied succinctly, not looking up.

The human's scowl grew more pronounced. "I know you can find him in the Force," he said harshly.

The youngling trailed a finger along the screen, moving the view, and still without looking up, informed the irate political aide-cum-babysitter, "Anakin isn't found unless he wants to be."

Pestage snarled. "It's time for his bath." A disembodied giggle floating through the apartment heightened his fury, his face going red. "You little brat," he spat, spinning around and visually scanning the room and hallway. "Where are you?!"

Maul said lazily from behind him, "It's a process of lemonation. He's not allowed in any of Father's rooms, and he knows it, and he won't be in the refresher, and there's nowhere in the kitchen he can hide – Father made sure of that." The small voice trembled with amusement at the last part and an unbidden mental image rose in Pestage's mind of a little human sitting crouched in a cabinet, staring merrily up at a considerably startled and angry Palpatine.

Shaking away the unwanted thought, the erstwhile assassin moved through the apartment with all the stealth and cunning his profession had taught him – no matter that his prey was a mischievous toddler. Watching Darth Sidious in action had taught him well not to underestimate the Force. Methodically checking each spot that could possibly conceal a very small human male, Pestage crept along, narrowing down the options.

A squeal from the living room made him turn, sprinting out. A thrashing tangle of red, black, and pale tan squirmed around the carpeted floor, as the older, more experienced Maul sought to subdue his squirming, highly-motivated brother. The larger human moved expertly into the fray, twisting a small chubby arm here and leg there, he and the Zabrak immobilizing Anakin – who promptly started screaming at the top of his lungs.

Unimpressed, Pestage picked his charge up by the contained arm and leg, glancing down at the extra red marring the black tones on Maul's face. "See to that nose," he ordered, and carried the loudly protesting youngling down the hall to the refresher. "Why don't the two of you have a nanny droid? I know Palpatine doesn't do this himself..."

Anakin, sitting plopped in the bathwater like a plump nuna in a pot, scowled and said nothing, still as a stone. This lasted precisely until Pestage got the infants' cleanser onto the scrubber and reached out to grasp his charge.

He got a crash course in exactly how slippery offended toddlers in sudsy water could be.

Roughly an hour later, his attire still blotchy from water and his hair stuck together with soap, left eye reddened where a very small, outrageously hard, and uncomfortably soapy fist had collided with it, he had the miniature nightmare in the solid black pajamas waiting in the crib and all but chained the horrific creature into its specialized cage. A demure Zabrak, already pajama-clad, sat in bed, observing silently. As the exhausted adviser turned to leave, a voice from behind him informed him pleasantly, "Father always reads to us before we go to sleep."

Pestage turned to glare at the smug alien. "Does he know you call him that?" he demanded bitingly.

Maul shrugged. "Anakin won't call him anything else, and I usually call him Master when he's around. The book's right here." A small black-and-red hand reached out and tapped a leather-bound tome.

Pestage glared. "I'm not reading to you. Lights off." Stomping out to the living room, he slumped onto one of the red plush chairs, exhausted. He was not helpless against these spawn of hell. He wasn't.

* * *

 **He is, he totally is. xD Don't worry, Sate, only one more day, and then you're off the job. ;) For now... muahahahaha...  
**


	16. Dentist Trip

Senator Palpatine sat stiffly perched on the chair in the waiting room, a still silent Zabrak-statue in the chair beside him. From the next room, doorless as it was, came the clearly audible sounds of a very unhappy human youngling. A medical droid's soothing tones were barely discernible under the whimpers and complaints of the toddler, as the construct sought to assure the small human of its good intentions.

Maul squirmed slightly and received a sideways glare in reprimand, quickly going still again. A Duros doctor's mild voice merged with the droids in a fruitless attempt to get Anakin to cooperate, and Palpatine went stiffer. The boy was an embarrassment, the visit was certainly unpleasant but the child was being ridiculous. Life would only grow more unpleasant from here, and the Sith Lord made a mental note to have a firm talking-to with Anakin later.

A Twi'lek nurse glided to the back room, clutching a fistful of lollipops, with the clear intention of bribing the fussy patient. Gingery eyebrows rose on a pale face, and a greedy hazel gaze fastened on the candy before Maul dismissed it from mind and sneaked a glance up at his disapproving guardian. Palpatine ignored his small charge, waiting as the whimpers from the next room subsided into suspicious silence. There was a pause, before the humming whine of some tool started up, reminding him pleasantly of several of his torture instruments.

Almost an hour later, a distinctly sulky toddler was led out by the same nurse that had taken in a bribe to the child. A small pink tongue poked out from between pouting lips, a look of suspicion and discomfort pasted across the small expressive face. Palpatine stood with dignity, smoothing down his robes and fixing a sternly paternal look on the wriggling toddler. Maul slid down from his chair, going over and hugging Anakin, before saying comfortingly, "Don't worry, I know they feel weird. But it's worth it."

A small mouth opened and Anakin explored his teeth with his tongue, scowling. "I don't like them."

Palpatine turned away from the counter, having put paid to the requisite bill. "Come along," he ordered, and swept for the door.

Maul took his brother's hand, trotting in the Senator's wake. "I know," he agreed sympathetically. "But you really do need braces."

Anakin pouted.

* * *

 **I know, I know, I'm venturing past the realms of even crack, now. This actually had basis... first off, I watched Revenge of the Sith last night, and noticed how perfect Anakin's teeth are. Well, I got to wondering who footed the bill for the orthodontist for a slave kid-turned-Jedi... and then I remembered Ru asking me where Palpatine was taking his brats, that he was wrestling a toddler into a car seat, and specifically mentioning the dentist. I couldn't pass it up. :D  
**


	17. Driven to Drink

Sate Pestage didn't bother to look up at the sound of the apartment door opening. Either it was his employer returned, or the intruder would quickly be taken care of by the advanced security systems. Instead, he slowly swirled the amber liquid in his borrowed glass before taking a deep swallow, setting it down with a faint clunk on the elegant tabletop. He did not even look up when a quiet voice came from the doorway. "How much of that have you consumed?"

He answered grimly, voice a trace raspy. "Not enough to make up for dealing with those little hellions. How did you end up with them, anyway?"

Palpatine moved into the room, calling a glass to him with a wave of his hand and pouring himself a healthy measure from the bottle sitting in front of his chief adviser and de facto babysitter. "Darth Plagueis wished me to take them and raise them," he replied expressionlessly, before taking a swallow of his drink.

Pestage scowled slightly. "I see," he said flatly, and reached for the bottle. A twitch of Palpatine's fingers sent it out of reach, and the assassin settled back with a glum sigh. "How do you do it?"

"I make them mind," the Senator-Sith Lord said simply, sitting down across from the man who was the closest thing he had to a friend.

"That is not, apparently, an ability I share," Pestage said savagely, and finished off his drink, eyes hard. The bottle rose of its own accord, refilling the glass.

"They were… reluctant to listen, at first," Palpatine acknowledged. "It took… rather forceful means, to… persuade them. Younglings are more resilient than one would think," he added, deadpan, and Pestage indulged a momentary fantasy. A raised eyebrow from his employer had him regretfully banishing the mental image, and instead he took a small sip of his drink.

The two sat in companionable silence for several minutes before Palpatine said casually, "Now you're prepared for next time." A fleeting grin crossed his face as Sate choked.


	18. Rescue

Palpatine hated idiots. Really, hated them. What fool would think it to be a good idea to hold for ransom the daughter of a Sith Lord? And of course, both Maul and Anakin were out of system on missions. So of course, Eirtaé had come to him, expecting him to rescue her brat. And so here he was, traversing the underbelly of Coruscant to find the youngling.

It wasn't difficult to track her. Few beings had the raw power of his apprentices and Maul's offspring, and once he was in the general area her fear and distress broadcast like a beacon. Palming open the door, his eyes went immediately to the little bundle of pink huddled in the corner – noting the black eye, the hand-shaped bruise on the other cheek, the shadowed jaw. It was an odd feeling, when one's eyes went yellow, but this time it barely registered. Sidious scarcely noticed the scratches on the grubby human man's arms and face beyond an observation that Kyziné had attempted to give as good as she got. He never stopped to think that this might not be something a youngling should see, that it could cause nightmares later. His lightsaber flew faster than the human eye could discern, and when it stopped, there was nothing recognizable left as a being. Holding his lightsaber over the remaining pieces smoked it into untraceable ash.

Barely had he extinguished his weapon before a soft weight thudded into his leg. "You came for me," came a small muffled voice.

"Yes well, your mother would have given me no peace if I did not," he rumbled, reaching down and scooping his granddaughter up. "Come on, let's get you home."

By the time they arrived back at 500 Republica, the youngling had dozed off, exhausted by her ordeal. A gentle twist of the Dark Side, on the lift to his suite, was all it took to ensure dreamless sleep for her for the rest of the night. The door opened and the Chancellor deposited the girl in the arms of her anxiously awaiting mother, before he brushed past to rid himself of the vestiges of his underworld journey.


End file.
